


One Last Time

by Babylawyer



Series: Canon Moments [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst and Porn, F/M, The vault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:03:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23163703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Babylawyer/pseuds/Babylawyer
Summary: My version of the morning after the vault. Their one last round before they go back to reality and never sin this way again.
Relationships: Evil Queen | Regina Mills/Robin Hood
Series: Canon Moments [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1665118
Comments: 12
Kudos: 33





	One Last Time

It's the last time—they _cannot_ do this again. Not even with how toe-curling and mindblowing the sex was last night. They cannot succumb again after this, this is it.

One more round.

One more, then it's over—they go back to their real lives where he is _married_ , and that's that.

It's not as if she didn't cheat on her husband from time to time, and she's sure Leo did as well, but this is different. Robin actually loves Marian, and as much as she's not supposed to be here, that still means something, regardless of the tattoo, or that she is destined to be with him, that they started to build a life together. He is honourable and true, and she respects that, would never ever tempt him to cross lines, at least not intentionally.

But she has, and she'd be lying if she said she didn't enjoy that he couldn't stay away from her, because she did, immensely, has the five orgasms from last night to prove it.

And now, he's kissing down her neck, is feasting on sensitive skin that for too long went untouched, and she is weak, an utter wreck for this man who is not actually hers no matter what fate, pixie dust and all that crap says. He is Marian's, he is taken, and she is taking what is not hers to take. It's against everything he stands for, and she knows that, but kissed him back anyway, wasn't strong enough to resist again. It's wrong, but it's only this once, if it does still count as the first time that is, just for this fourteen-hour period where they can pretend this could work out, that there are no obstacles and enjoy the satisfaction they denied themselves back when they thought that they had all the time in the world to explore each other.

And satisfying it is, superb, has her breath hitching and thighs slickening. His hands are on her hips, on her ass, squeezing, just like he did last night when he was buried inside her, grunting as he held out for her, driving her to an incredible peak that left her putty in his arms.

She's not this person, doesn't want to be, has been actively trying to be a hero, but she is today, just for today, just for this. She'll go back to doing what's right once they get this out of their system, just once more, one last time. Good and honourable people don't do this, don't give it all up for moments of pleasure, but she is not a good person, never has been. Now that she's fucked him, has experienced the delicious rapture he can bestow on her with just the touch of his hands or a flick of his tongue, she never wants to let go, is being greedy and selfish when she knows better.

It's not just that he's exceptionally skilled, which he is, it's that he's so in tune, listens and reacts, memorizes each spot that makes you gasp, draws out every exquisite sensation until he has you writhing and begging, then asks how he can make it better.

He wants to know, wants to learn, and it just makes it all so much hotter. She's never given quite so much instruction in one night before, but also never had instructions so well received and executed. The result was astonishing and euphoric, had her second-guessing all of her other encounters, wondering how the hell she missed out on this amount of rapture.

She's not even trying to resist him, is encouraging him down this sinful path, dragging him away from what is right. She should stop, but his hands are kneading her skin in that tantalizing way, his tongue swirling against the good spots, turning her into a puddle despite how little they've done. It's incredible how he's brought her to this state so quickly, but it's also that recognition that this cannot happen again (it's bad enough that it's happening now) that is making everything stronger, has her nerve endings firing at every single touch, her anticipation skyrocketing from things she would ordinarily ignore.

She grips at his bare arms, his strong arms that held her up earlier as he drove into her again and again, that show of strength surprisingly sensual, had her climbing the wall he had her pinned to.

God, just the thought of the previous night has heat flaring in her lower belly. She's never had anything quite like that—it was raw and desperate in the best of ways, but lacking any sense of depravity or detachment she'd long associated with sex. It was strangely open and almost vulnerable, but in a good way. She felt close to him in a way she hasn't with anyone in a long time, and as he'd built her up, words of encouragement and affection falling from his lips, she felt… cherished and pure, despite the immoral behaviour.

So yeah, she already knows he's good, better than good, he'd proven that again and again last night, and there's this sense of foreboding, knowing that she won't get it this good and intimate ever again. She knows she is operating on borrowed time, and reality is about to crash in on them so hard.

She doesn't want it to, so she focuses on his hands, which are now removing blouse, and his lips, which are trailing up her jaw, making her gasp into the space between them, before meeting hers.

Their tongues battle as he moans into the space between them and she's not sure she's heard anything hotter, grinds her front against where he's already hard and delights in the shiver that ripples through him and the soft sound that falls from his lips as he breaks the kiss.

"I… god…"

He doesn't manage much more than that because she's tearing off his shirt, that white tank top she more than appreciates his arms in but wants off, wants all of his clothes off, wants him naked and desperate for her.

To that end, while he finally makes work on getting her blouse and camisole actually off and not just pushed aside so he can do as he pleases, she focuses on his pants. She doesn't even know why he bothered to put them on, he came out of the bedroom intent on seducing her and no clothes would have taken him closer to that goal than any of those whispered words and soft touches. Not that those weren't great, because they were.

He's so hard it makes her clench as she strokes deliberately up over his erection before taking on the zipper of his pants. She lets his cocks spring free, as soon as his pants are open, not even bothering to take them off before sliding her hand into his boxers and stroking the soft skin firmly.

His erection is warm and firm in her hand, stiff as nails but the skin soft and delicate. He gasps as she intensifies the pressure against him, going from gentle, teasing strokes to snug, deliberate ones.

He pushes her skirt up, tights down, he should just take them off, but he's lowering himself between her thighs and her eyes nearly roll back from the memory of doing this last night.

It's so unfair she has to give this up (it's not really, she did kill his wife, who's now back from the dead, but she's not thinking about that). She's sure as hell not turning down this tantalizing treatment as Robin kisses up her thighs. Robin seems to want to go out with a bang, and she won't fault him for that. It makes her want to give it back just as good, send him reeling so he can't possibly leave her, but no, that's not what this is.

She ignores those thoughts and focuses on how he's getting closer and closer to her sex, how even his hot breaths before he plants exhilarating kisses on her thighs have her shivering.

God, she is really far gone, which is a real shame because she's never going to get this again, needs to get her body in check so she can enjoy it for as long as she can withstand. If he wants to lavish her body with attention until she comes, she will gladly accept that, will actively fight against the end because no part of her is willing to let him go. Her heart, her mind, and now her body are all fighting against the inevitable, and they can't win, but they can draw this out.

She almost loses it before he even gets to it, when his tongue licks at the hinge of her hip, a sensitive spot he discovered the night before and took full advantage of. It's not one she ever tends to herself so it's extra greedy for attention, can have her close to coming despite the lack of stimulation to her clit.

Fuck, fuck, if he so much as touches her clit right now she'll sail over the edge and as good as that is, she's not ready for it. She has to hold on, cannot let this just be a quick encounter when it's one of the few memories she'll have to hold onto. She doesn't get anything else when this is done, has to be strong enough to draw it out for as long as possible and not surrender to the temptation to let it all go, when that means ending this all.

That can't… No! She's not going there. What she is doing is enjoying the here and now, how his beard scrapes over oh so sensitive skin, making her nerve endings come alight as her inner muscles clench against nothing and her hips roll toward his mouth involuntarily.

She's so torn. Wants to come so badly she'd do near anything for it, but also is afraid of what happens next. Yes, there's the sex, but once that's done that's it, they cannot keep justifying this affair, it has to end, so she needs to draw out this transgression and make it last, no matter how much her body is crying out for release.

And it is, she's so on edge, and as his tongue gets closer and closer to her clit she tightens her abs and thighs, everything prepping for the bliss that will flood out from that first touch.

But he's a tease, her Robin, moving off to her other thigh, neglecting her sex, and though she lets out a dismayed mew, one part of her is happy because it means this won't be ending just yet. As much as she wants to draw it out, she will fall to pieces when he touches her properly, won't be able to hold back when he gets going. She doesn't really have the control here, he does, which is enticing in a way she's not thinking too much about.

Not when he's sucking at sensitive skin, sending a shiver up her spine at the pleasant sensation. The anticipation is acute, but she's enjoying the ache. He moves closer and closer and her breath catches, held until he licks down her sex, whooshing out at the gentle brush against her clit. It's a subtle touch, but still has her clenching, needy, her hand fisting his hair trying to draw him back there.

He chuckles against her and the rush of air is somehow erotic, that's how far gone she is.

He doesn't do as she wants, starts to tease her entrance, then fucks her with his tongue. It's good, it is, but she's so turned on it's almost painful, her clit woefully neglected, so aroused she can nearly feel her pulse thrumming there. She needs his tongue, needs him to suck, shouldn't rush this, but can't he see she's dying here?

She manages to gasp out a _please_ , then he's looking up at her, two fingers crooking in and up, and _oh god_. He licks his lips and she feels a flash of heat from the image alone, then his tongue is on her and it's electrifying.

He starts to suck at her clit and she _moans,_ pleasure lighting her up as everything inside winds tight. Fuck, god, she's so close, this is, jesus christ. He needs to never stop, every thump of his fingers is making the heat grow and it's too much, she can't, it's… god.

Her nails are biting into her palm, the hand in his hair squeezing tight, as everything sharpens, intensifies and it's incredible, her body writhing under the onslaught. She cries out as the pleasure amps up even more, then she's gasping as relief pulses out, washing over her, her orgasm loosening everything that's been held so tight. She shakes and moans through the exquisite spams, the intensity dulling to a gentle warmth when his mouth leaves her. Her breath is still racing, but slowing now as the afterglow sets in.

His lips find hers, a bit sloppy and desperate, and it reminds her that this isn't over yet, thank god. She doesn't have to give him up just yet, can enjoy him and his body a little more before she lets go for good.

The thought makes her heart clench, has her wanting to seal them in this room so they can never leave. She wants to keep having this, wants to keep being selfish, but she cannot do that. She has to let go, and this is it, after this.

Speaking of selfish, she hasn't done more for him than kiss back for ages. She sets her sights on remedying that. She moves to stand, pulling him up with her one hand as the other pushes down his boxers. He steps out of them once he's up as she takes off her skirt, discarding her tights with it.

They both pause, taking in each other's naked forms. She's seen his before, but not enough, it could never be enough. She needs to memorize him like this, because she will never see it again after this, will only have these memories.

She busses his lips, grabbing his hand and leading him off toward the bedroom without a word. He follows behind, one hand grasping for her ass, the other wrapping around her middle as he plants delicious kisses down the side of her neck. She can feel him hard against her, thick and warm as she leans into his touch with a sigh. She pauses for a moment to revel, delighting in the attention and the feel of his body behind her, before continuing their path.

She turns into his arms when they hit the bed, sitting down on it and pulling him atop her. His weight pins her down until he adjusts. She misses that feeling, wants to be surrounded by him, as close to one as they can be, so she pulls him in closer as they shift up, lips pressing together, dampening the way she moans as he grinds into her.

God, that's good, the friction warming her back up again. She's still soaked from before, and as he presses into her, she bucks up and he slides almost perfectly into place.

"God, I… are you ready?" he asks, and she nods, anticipation skittering through her.

He sinks in slowly and it's divine, the feel of him filling her, how he groans low and deep, his eyes rolling back at the pleasure. She delights in what she can do to him, even more so when he tells her just how good it feels, making her warm from more than the pleasant sensation.

It's an oddly sweet moment, his hand pushing her hair out of her face so he can kiss her temple as he whispers how much he wants her, how beautiful he finds her like this. It makes her feel appreciated, and worthy, something she is not, but he almost makes her believe it.

He goes slow, keeps it languid and intimate, pressing soft kisses as her hands explore his back. It's not what she expected when they ended up here again; she expected something more reminiscent of their first time—fast and desperate, but this so much better.

After a while of the gentle undoing, she gets greedy, shifting her hips and raising a leg to his shoulder. It changes the angle, makes it go from good to magnificent and she gasps at the shift, breathing a drawn-out, "fuck," that has him smiling down at her.

"S'good?" he asks and god, is it ever. She manages a yes, then is rewarded when he starts to take her faster, nothing too intense, but a steady rhythm that starts to build her up.

"Mmm, so good," she assures, then claims his lips again because she hasn't spent nearly enough time kissing him. It's selfish and wrong but this all is and to hell with it. She's going to enjoy every single moment before she lets him go. She's never been good at doing the right thing, but if she were a better person they wouldn't be here now, and she wouldn't miss this for anything.

Not when he's buried inside her, gently undoing her with soft kisses and whispered words. She's never had anything like this, and she knows it's a one in a million, that she will never have this again. While it's exactly what she deserves it still stings, fiercely.

"What's wrong, love?" he stops her, his eyes full of concern, and she can't have that.

"Just… don't want it to," her voice gets even softer, and she's not looking at him as she whispers, "to end…"

He drops a kiss to her forehead, his whispered, "Neither do I," so faint she almost misses it. They are on the same page then, she thought as much after their conversation this morning, but having it confirmed somehow makes it worse.

It's one thing for this to hurt her, she's used to that, earned it a thousand times over with all her evil deeds, but he is so good. He shouldn't be hurting because they have to stay away, and she shouldn't be conflicted about that fact, should not feel that twinge of happiness that accompanies the knowledge that he cares for her, when it only makes this harder. He needs someone better than her, needs Marian, and Regina needs to do what's right and step aside, allowing him to fall back in love with the right woman for him—which is not her.

He starts to move again, and she tries to lose herself to the pleasure, but she knows the end is near and it's clawing at her, threatening to ruin this.

She distracts herself with his body, with kissing all the inches of his skin she can reach, her nails digging into him, urging him on as he starts to pick up the pace. That's what she needs, hard and fast, just for a moment, just to get her back on track.

She ends up asking for it, begging for more and as soon as she does, he's crashing into her, a swift pace that presses him firmly against that spot, and yes, that's what she needs. The heat coils low, and all she's thinking about is him, how good this feels, and god, yes.

Just when she's starting to get close, he slows, drawing himself back, but not out, managing to rearrange them so she's on top but not in control. He's on his knees, sitting back on his heels, thrusting up into her and using his hands to guide her. Her legs are wide, she's on him, bracketed against him, her heels finding purchase on the bed behind his back. It's a little awkward, but he's got her, she knows he does, and her clit is grinding against him with every movement, his cock hitting her g-spot.

Good lord, that is fantastic, has her moaning and moaning, heat building even at this gentle pace.

"You like that, love?" he asks as she's biting at her lip, and all she can do is nod as pleasure burns through her.

He's deep and barely moving, but he's hitting just the right spots, the pressure perfect.

"I'm—oh god—c-close," she pants as his grip tightens on her hips. That makes her even hotter, feeling his palms dig into her flesh, she loves the feel of his hands on her body.

He groans in a way that's criminally sexy, then riles her even more as he begs, "Let go for me, love. Show me how good it feels, let it all go."

She should hold on, but it is so good, and she is so so close. He feels incredible inside her, all around her, and god, she doesn't want it to end. She squeezes tight, fighting off the mounting bliss with loud cries.

She doesn't stop moaning, not even when the pleasure finally pulls her down, crashing over her like a wave, rolling through her as it crests in a rush of euphoria that's slow to recede, and leaves her shaky and satisfied.

He's not done yet, she can feel him still hard inside of her, and he moans as she clenches on him as a little aftershock rocks through her.

"How do you want me?" she asks breathlessly, going for sexy but not sure she sells it.

Robin seems to love it, inhaling sharply, closing his eyes for a second, quickly popping them back open, hands squeezing suggestively at her ass.

She smirks, knows she has a great ass and that he'd enjoyed the view when taking her from behind the night before. She too loves that position, had one hell of an orgasm from it, that won't be happening now, but it will still feel damn good.

She shuffles off of him, rests on her hands and knees, turning over her shoulder with an arched brow. His hands ghost over her ass, then to himself and she watches as he slips inside her. As soon as he's in he starts up a brisk pace, railing into her in a way that is so good she gasps sharply.

He's groaning at every thrust, making her shiver as he tells her how wet she is, how good she feels, how close he is. She wants that, wants him to come, urges him on until he does, moaning as he spills inside her. He collapses beside her in a satisfied heap and she knows the feeling.

This should be it, she should not indulge any further, but she cannot resist cuddling up into his warmth, relishing in the soft afterglow kisses he's bestowing on her. They keep it up, soft touches and slow kisses that prolong the bliss, both unwilling to part.

A, "She shouldn't be here," falls from her lips before she can help it, and she clamps them shut, cursing herself for breaking the moment.

"But she is…"

It's a conversation they've had before, and hell, she is weak, so they will probably have it again. She doesn't want to lose him or the moment just yet, they are still in their little bubble, so she brushes her fingers over his scruff before kissing the path her fingers just took.

"Regina…" he tries to start, but she stops whatever he was going to say with a quick kiss.

"Just a few more minutes, please."

He nods, his hands trailing up her back, coming to rest in her hair. God, this is perfect, she doesn't want to ever leave this moment, doesn't want to go back to reality, to never having him. It's a torturous reality, so she keeps avoiding it, kissing him until she has to break for air, then reluctantly pulls away, knowing she's indulged for _far_ too long.

She gets up off of the bed despite his protests, walking out into the other room to piece together her strewn clothing. It takes all of her strength not to turn around and take more of him, but the time for that is over. He says nothing as he joins her in the main room gathering his own clothes. She grabs her phone from the stairwell once she's got everything on but her shirt, rolling her eyes at the seventeen messages from Snow. She opens voicemail to avoid talking to and being pulled down again by Robin, her heart stopping when she listens to the first one.

Oh god, Henry.

She is a terrible mother, a terrible person. Here she was fucking a married man all the while her son was suffering. This is why she will never get a happy ending.

She barely remembers saying goodbye to Robin, couldn't tell you what she said to him, her mind too focused on getting to Henry. That hyper focus is only interrupted once she gets to the loft and Snow points out her shirt, which she should have noticed, and should be embarrassed about, but she needs to see her son, to ensure he's okay.

She heals his wounds, ones that she should have tended to hours ago, and the guilt takes hold. She shouldn't have done that, should have been here to help Henry, not off with Robin committing adultery. That cannot ever happen again, she won't let it.


End file.
